Title: Having Roots
Author: Dusty Tyree
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Blair discovers something he didn't think he'd ever have.
Warnings: None
Feedback: Welcome, on or off list.
Disclaimer: This is an amateur story written purely for the enjoyment of fans. The characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended to Pet Fly, or any other individuals or companies concerned.

Having Roots
by Dusty Tyree

Blair trudged down the corridor to the loft, his feet uncharacteristically
dragging with sheer fatigue.

Boy this had been a tough two weeks, and although it was barely 6.30 PM, he was already exhausted.

Although he didn't regret having agreed to help Professor Paulsen set up the Incan exhibition at Rainier, he had thought it would've been more for his expertise in the subject rather than being a general dogsbody and runabout.

For days, he'd hauled boxes of artefacts up from the basement storage rooms, dusted and sorted them out into the various categories needed, and set them up on the various stands.

Hell, he'd even treated the two students helping him to coffee and
doughnuts after everything had been set up to his own satisfaction,
despite his threadbare wallet.

Algy Miller, a TA working for Paulsen, and who was supposed to be in charge having mysteriously disappeared. He'd done that a lot over the past two weeks. Blair suspected that the tall thin, arrogant s.o.b. had been hiding out in the Teachers' Break Room, only appearing when Professor Paulsen had been there.

The work, although exhausting, had been interesting, and Blair had been able to take a few notes for his own classes, and that had, at the time,
outweighed the general labouring he'd done.

Professor Paulsen, understandably nervous over the exhibition, had thanked him profusely, earning Blair a special glare from Miller, who obviously didn't like the idea of anyone else getting the credit, despite the fact he'd done nothing to help Blair, or the Professor.

At least this afternoon, Blair had been able to talk with Paulsen for about
an hour, and the older man had seemed pleased that he was taking such an interest and had answered his questions in depth, before having to hurry out to a meeting with the Sponsors responsible for the exhibition, due to open the day after tomorrow.

The tired anthropology student had managed to avoid the scowling Miller by dodging down the back stairs and escaped into the courtyard and walked to his car.

Of course, when he got there, the front tyre was flat, looked like a nail
stuck in the tread.

Blair raised his eyes to the grey sky. "Why me?" he moaned.
He'd just started to get the spare out, when a couple of his students rushed past him, shouting and yelling at each other as they threw a football around.

Blair had just waved, not wanting to get into any discussions about lessons, but the youths had skidded to a stop when they'd seen the tyre.

"Hey, Mr. Sandburg. What happened? Someone slash your tyre?"

Blair stared, he hadn't thought of that. "No, I don't think so, Gary. Just
a nail."

The boys had bent over, studying the tyre. "Yeah, looks like a nail. That
happened to Mr. Miller just last week."

'Bet he kept it, the tight-fisted asshole' was Blair's uncharitable thought
as he hauled the spare around and went back for the jack.

"Hey, Mr. Sandburg, give that here... we'll have it fixed in no time..."

Gary took the jack and between the two young men, Blair's tyre was changed, the tools put back and the boys were off again, Blair's heartfelt thanks ringing in their ears.

Blair had been amazed, most of his kids were decent youngsters, but he
hadn't even asked them to help.

'Guess my luck must be changing after all' he mused as he pulled out into
the traffic.

Of course, he should've known better. The traffic was snarled up most of
the way to Prospect, it had started to rain, and his head was aching by the
time he parked outside the loft.

Now, all Blair wanted to do was flop down on the couch and just do nothing.

That was wishful thinking, he knew.

He'd told Jim that he would cook the evening meal as the detective was on duty until 7.30.

"Wonder if Jim would go for ordering in from Lee Sung's?" Blair mused out loud, then groaned as he remembered Jim saying he wanted to get a start on installing the new safety locks he'd deemed necessary after the
crazy-of-the-week had broken the one on the front window.

"Coffee... cup of coffee ... few minutes rest...and I'll be fine..." he
muttered, only half believing his own words.

Digging his keys out of his pocket, Blair opened the door and walked into
the large airy room, dropped his backpack on the floor and flopped onto the couch.

Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply, letting the warmth of his home seep into his bones.

His home. That sounded so good and surprisingly 'normal' for him.

"Guess I've taken root after all," and Blair chuckled softly, envisaging his
mother's face if he ever told her that.

His restful interlude was loudly interrupted by the phone. "Damn!"

Blair decided to let the answer machine take it, he really didn't want to
know.

A familiar voice came over the line. "Hey, Chief. Been called to help on a
stakeout... be home..."

He made a dive for the phone. "Hey Jim. I'm here... you want me to come
help..."

"No, that's okay. As soon as Henry gets his ass here, I'll be able to
leave. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, or so. It's no big deal.
See you soon."

"Oh, okay. You sure? I can be there in a flash," he couldn't help
worrying that Jim might use his senses too much without his backup.

"I'm sure." Ellison paused, hearing Blair's unspoken concern. "It's okay,
Chief," he said softly. "I'm just going to be sitting in a car with H until
Joel can take over. I'll get something to eat on the way home, so you don't have to bother with anything for me. Oh, and Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Get some rest, you've been running yourself ragged this week. So, no
dancing girls in the loft. Okay?"

Blair could hear the smile in Jim's voice.

"Aw shucks... just when it was getting interesting. Guess I'd better throw
them out of the bedroom, then."

Jim laughed out loud. "Say Goodnight, Blair."

Sandburg grinned. "Goodnight Blair..."

Jim was still laughing as he broke the connection.

Blair smiled as he put down the phone. It was amazing, just a few words of banter with his best friend, and he immediately felt better.

So what if that jerk Miller was an ass, after the exhibition he wouldn't
have to try and work with him again. With a bit of luck Miller would get
eaten by a baboon on that next trip he was always bragging he was going to take.

The mental picture of the tall, thin, scrawny man being chased by a couple
of big baboons, kept Blair chuckling as he went into the kitchen.

Every TA knew that Miller hated getting his hands dirty. He liked doing his
research in a warm house, with food, drink and liquid refreshment near to
hand. He was as likely to rough it on a field expedition than Blair would wear a shirt and tie into school. Not very likely.

As Blair leaned on the counter waiting for the kettle to boil for his
coffee, he reflected that life wasn't so bad after all.

He had a home, a friend, a job he loved and a Sentinel to guide.
Life couldn't get much better than this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dusty Tyree (c)
September 2006